Niches are like assholes. Everybody has one.

Or at least they’re supposed to.

That’s always one of the first topics of conversation at blogging conferences or get-togethers. “What’s your niche?”

At the NonCon, where we did little to no actual Conferencing (ps: did I tell you already that you would HATE it? because you would.), one of the roundtable discussions was about just this. Now, I am normally NOT one to speak up in a group of people I look up to and be definitive and confident in my words. I usually give my answer in a singsongy question-type way. You know, with my adorable Southern drawl added in.

But then it happened. I just blurted out, “My niche is being Jana. I’m a well-rounded person and I write a well-rounded blog.” That was the first time I ever really owned those words. I’m proud of the fact that I’ve never put myself in a (writing) box.

Both Jason and I are people who know a little about most things, sometimes just enough to be dangerous, but we are knowledgeable about a lot of things both inside and outside our comfort zones. My friends are a diverse group, and from them I gain knowledge and insight into different ways to live and love.

I never want to be in a box (or a corner like Baby).

I don’t want to be the woman whose son died. Or the girl who only posts recipes. Don’t call me the girl who only talks politics or religion (won’t see that happening).

I want to be me. Jana. I want to sit in this place, on this site, and write from my heart. My well-rounded, multi-faceted, happy yet broken, heart.

All of this has been swirling in my head this week and today at work, we started talking about what ice cream flavor we’d consider ourselves to be. We took turns making them up for the other people in the office. There was vanilla, chocolate, rocky road… all the obvious favorites.

They had a hard time choosing one for me because they said I had too many “flavors.” So everybody settled on a banana split because it had many components to it. It hit me that others see me the way I see myself.

And that’s flattering to me.

So you want me to have a neesh? Or a nitch? However you say it, Jana is all you get. You get me. In all my Banana Split glory.

Now, who wants to bring me some ice cream?